Silent Night
by Rouge the theif
Summary: Beautiful, cold Rouge won't listen to anyone. Rouge thinks she can have whatever and whoever she wants. Now, someone has surprises in store for her. robbery?terror?even murder? some rougexshadow but mostly rougexknux.chapter 3 up! and i didn't copy nothin
1. prologue

Rouge the bat admired her reflection in the glass countertop. Only two weeks till Christmas, she thought, smoothing the eye shadow on her left eyelid with her little finger, then adjusting her wavy white fur. Shoppers crowded the aisles of the brightly-lit department store. The Christmas carols jangling out over the loudspeakers were nearly drowned out by the steady roar of voices, of shuffling feet, of ringing phones, crying babies, the whole electric buzz and whir of all large department stores at holiday time. Rouge leaned against the glass perfume counter, ignoring the blur of customers, her gloved fingers tapping against the glass, a nervous habit she rather enjoyed. She glanced up at the clock. Another hour until lunchtime, when she could escape her narrow, noisy prison cell.

What am I doing here, anyway? Because I can sneak jewels in my pocket! Rouge thought to herself.

Her cold aqua eyes focused on the makeup counter across the aisles, where two salesgirls, blond model types, had scurried to wait on a dumpy woman in a strained purple sweater-coat, carrying two brown shopping bags.

How tacky, Rouge thought scornfully. That woman is beyond makeup. She should go straight to plastic surgery.

And look at the bleach job on the one over there. Or is her hair naturally green?

Rouge snickered. Making fun of the customers was the only thing that got her through the day. They were all so pitiful. They just didn't have a clue.

She glanced up at the clock. It hadn't moved. I could be out enjoying my Saturday, Rouge thought. She rubbed the back of her neck, then pushed her fur into place.

Why do they have to keep it two hundred degrees in here? She wondered, shaking her head. She felt as if she were suffocating. I'm going to talk to the president about turning down the heat, she decided.

What was that awful song on the speakers? Not "The little drummer boy" again! Someone should pass a law against playing that song in a public place, Rouge thought, covering her ears.

She was startled by a tap on her shoulder. She spun around to see Topaz, the sales manager for the perfume department and Rouge's partner in the government. She was tall, tough woman who thought she was chic and trendy because she wore men's suits.

Yuck. Those tacky shoulder pads! Thought rouge. Is she going to try out for a football team?

"Rouge, do you have an earache?" Topaz asked, her face wrinkled in concern.

Rouge lowered her hands from her ears. "No. It's that song," She explained. "If you hear it once, it stays in your head all day and rots your brain."

"Well. I really don't think –" Topaz started to scold.

But Rouge interrupted her. "It's all the rum-tum-tums," She said. "I mean, really, how many rum-tum-tums can a human take in one song?"

Topaz ignored the question. "Rouge, I'll take the floor for a while. The channel reorder just came in. It's all in the back. In the cases marked Chanel. I'd like you to open them up and stock the display shelves, okay?"

"Gee, I can't," Rouge said, not sounding at all apologetic. "I just did my nails this morning." She stared hard into her partner's eyes, as if challenging her.

"What?" Topaz's small blue eyes widened with confusion. She didn't seem to believe what she had just heard.

"I don't want to wreck my nails," rouge repeated, holding up her slender hands, taking off her gloves, then wiggling her fingers to exhibit the deep magenta nails. "Sorry."

Topaz's expression turned quickly to anger. She sucked in her breath and drew up to her not-very-impressive height, glaring at Rouge, obviously trying to decide how to handle this insubordination. Gee, I hope she doesn't explode, Rouge thought, forcing herself not to laugh. Her shoulder pads might fly off and hit someone.

"Rouge, I'm not going to take this much longer," Topaz said, her hands balled into tight fists at her sides, her voice quivering.

Just two more weeks, Rouge thought. Then I'll be out of here.

She didn't say anything.

This seemed to make Topaz even angrier. "I really want you to unload those cases and stock the shelves," she said, saying each word slowly and distinctly.

"Maybe later." Rouge gave her a big phony smile. "This is really the last straw!" Topaz declared. She glared at Rouge, then spun around on her men's wingtips and stormed down the aisle, heading toward the main-floor office.

Rouge leaned against the counter and watched her until she disappeared in a crowd of customers. What's her problem anyway? She asked herself.

The president owns this store. He owns all of the president s stores. Why should I listen to a stupid old gal with shoulder pads bigger then her head?

A scene across the aisle caught Rouge's attention. A woman was leaning over the makeup counter while a five- or six-years-old boy tugged at her skirt. "Mom, mom, mom," he kept repeating, an impatient plea. Then he tugged so hard, he tugged her skirt down to her knees. The woman calmly turned around, pulled up her skirt, and gently paddled the boy across the bottom.

Kids are a riot, Rouge thought, chuckling.

"Hey, miss? Miss?" Out of the corner of her eye, Rouge saw a middle-aged man in a heavy brown tweed overcoat trying to get her attention.

She carefully turned the other way, avoiding his eyes.

"Hey, miss? Miss? Please?"

Let someone else wait on him. Where was Cosmo anyway? She was supposed to be back from break. The man wandered off. Rouge took out her lipstick from the drawer, pulled off the top, and twisted the tube. She turned the round countertop mirror so that she could see herself better, leaned toward it, puckered her full lips into a pout, and began spreading the ruby lipstick on them.

It took a second for the pain to register.

Then she let out a horrified shriek and dropped the lipstick.

Gasping in pain and surprise, she stared into the small mirror and saw blood pouring down her chin. Her lips throbbed with pain. She stood frozen in horror. So much blood! Frantically she grabbed up tissues, mopping gently at her lips.

I'm cut. I'm cut.

I can't stop the bleeding.

What has happened here?

Pressing a wad of tissues against her mouth, she saw large drips of blood on the glass countertop.

Breathing hard, she bent down and searched the floor for the lipstick tube. It had rolled under the counter. She snatched at it and brought it up to the light to examine it.

Trying to hold the tube steady in her trembling hand, Rouge saw at once what had cut her.

A needle. It poked out from the center of the tube. I've used this lipstick before, Rouge thought, feeling the warm blood still running down her chin. And it was perfectly okay.

Somebody put that needle in her lipstick.

But who? Who would do such a vicious thing to her?


	2. Broken up

( I'm a huge rouge and knux fan so what happens in this chapter won't stay that way! )

Two weeks earlier

Without warning Rouge pulled her car over to the curb and cut the headlights. She turned quickly toward the passenger side and watched Knuckles' face fill with surprise.

"Hey ---" His violet eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What's the big idea?"

She studied his face as if seeing him for the first time. His hair so Red and down. He had large, violet eyes, serious eyes. He was broad chested, with powerful arms.

Knuckles thinks he's tough, Rouge thought.

I hope for his sake that he is.

She'd been going out with Knuckles the echidna for more than six months, but studying him now, he seemed a stranger to her.

He's not my type at all, she thought. He's so crude, so coarse. Why did I waste so much time going out with him?

"Rouge, how come you parked the car?" he asked. I guess he was just a phase I was going through, Rouge thought.

Or rather, a phase I went through.

She gripped the wheel with both hands and stretched.

Beyond the streetlight she could see only bare-limbed trees, bending and shifting in a swift, wintry breeze. She must have pulled over near a small park or some woods. She wasn't sure where she was.

It didn't really matter.

"We have to talk," she said, keeping her voice low and steady, staring into his eyes. It sounded so cornball. This whole thing was cornball, Rouge thought.

She decided to play it out for its amusement value. "Talk? What about?" he asked, rubbing his face with his hand.

"Us," she said, making her voice dramatic, trying to sound as if she were struggling to hold back a flood of emotion.

For some reason he grinned at her. "I like that topic," he said, leaning toward her, reaching for her hand.

But she kept her hand wrapped hard around the steering wheel. Her features tightened, and she fixed him with a cold stare. "I've decided you and I are through," she said.

Mercilessly she kept her eyes on his features. She wanted to enjoy his reaction.

A shock wave of surprise contorted his face. His eyes went wide. His mouth dropped open. "Huh?" I guess I surprised him, Rouge thought, feeling pleased. I just hope he doesn't make a big deal out of this.

Suddenly apprehensive, she felt the same sense of danger that attracted her to Knuckles in the first place. He was a nice guy most of the time, she had to admit -- warm, caring, kind of innocent in a way. But she liked the angry side of him too. Once, he'd punched his fist through the screen door because she refused to go to a dumb Arnold Schwarzenegger movie with him.

She had surprised herself by discovering how much she enjoyed watching him explode. Opposites attract, they say, and Knuckles was certainly her opposite. She was always so calm, so controlled, so thoughtful about everything she did or said.

At times she admired his spontaneity, the way he just acted without thinking. But more and more often lately, she found herself secretly laughing at him. He was just such a Neanderthal.

"Hey -- What are you talking about?" Knuckles asked, rubbing her shoulder. "You mad at me or something?"

"I wish you'd stop pawing me," Rouge snapped. "No, I'm not mad at you or something. We've just had it. It's over."

He pulled his hand away and shifted his long legs uncomfortably. "What are you talking about?" She could see anger smoldering in his violet eyes.

Maybe I should have done this in a more public place, Rouge thought, glancing out at the dark trees. Not a single car had come by the whole time.

What if Knuckles decides to get violent?

"Let's not make a big deal out of this," she told him, rolling her eyes.

"But it is a big deal – to me," he insisted, a little embarrassed at having reveal so much emotion. Rouge yawned. "It's nothing personal," she said, glancing at the clock on the dashboard: 8:06.

I've got to get this over with, she told herself. I promised the president I'd pick him up at the store at eight. The president will be pleased that I'm breaking up with Knuckles, she thought. He never could understand why I went out with him in the first place.

"But why?" Knuckles was pleading. "At least tell me why."

Honey, you're to big to whine like that, Rouge thought cruelly. I like you so much better when you're macho and tough.

"Knuckles, please –" she started, acting like she were the injured party. "Give me a break – okay?"

"But why do you want to break up with me?" he insisted, his voice shaking as he started to lose control.

"I just decided to start the New Year with someone more interesting."

What a zinger! Rouge thought.

She'd been rehearsing that line all afternoon. At the last minute she'd decided it was much too cruel. But – she couldn't resist.

Knuckles dropped back against the seat as if he'd been shot. "Whoa!" he said sadly. Then unexpectedly he lunged toward her and grabbed her shoulder angrily.

"Rouge, don't – "

Was he going to hurt her?

Was he going to fly out of control? Let her have it the way he gave it to the screen door?

She decided to beat him at his own game. "Let go of me!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.

Her outcry worked. Startled, he let go.

"You'll be sorry about this, Rouge," he said, his voice trembling. He turned and stared straight ahead, unable to look at her, unwilling to let her see the emotion on his face.

Oh, brother! Rouge groaned to herself. If he starts to cry, I'll puke.

"You'll be sorry," he repeated, still peering out through the dark windshield.

She popped the automatic door locks.

This wasn't as much fun as I thought it would be, Rouge thought, brushing her fur back. I thought he'd at least come back at me with some arguments. I didn't think he'd sit there sniffling like a wimp and threatening me in that whiny voice.

A surprising thought crept in her mind; maybe he really cares about me. She dismissed it quickly.

Who cares?

What do I need him for?

"Rouge, you can't do this to me," Knuckles said, facing her finally, his features tight with anger.

"I've got to run," she said coldly. She reached across him, pulled the handle, and pushed his door open. "Take a walk, Knuckles."

He hesitated, staring at her with his violet eyes, angry eyes. She could see that he was thinking hard, trying to decide what to do, what to say to her.

"You'll be sorry," he said.

"Take a walk," she repeated cruelly, pressing her foot down impatiently on the gas pedal gunning the engine.

He glared at her one last time, then slid out of the car and slammed the door behind him.

Rouge switched on the headlights and shifted into drive. She started to pull away, then stopped and slid down her window. "Oh, Knuckles! Knuckles!" she called to him.

His hands on his hips, a grim expression on his face, he jogged slowly up to her door. "Yeah? What?"

"Happy Holidays!" she said cheerfully. Then, laughing, she floored the gas pedal and roared away, leaving him standing in the street like a total fool.

A total fool!

The car hummed smoothly toward town, warm air billowing from the heater vents. The trees gave way to brightly-lit houses, many of them already decorated for Christmas.

Feeling relieved and very pleased at how it had gone, Rouge relaxed, enjoying the feeling of freedom, of being by herself, of moving so smoothly, so effortlessly through the night.

I'm free, she thought. As free as the wind.

She scolded herself for having such cornball thoughts. But it was true, she realized. For the first time in six months she was free to go out with anyone. With everyone!

Who would she go out with?

She didn't have long to ponder the question for long, Shadow the hedgehog. She'd been thinking about Shadow for quite a while.

Shadow is really cute, she thought, picturing him. His thick red and black fur. That evil smile.

Yes. Shadow the hedgehog. A good prospect.

I'll bet I can take him away from that drippy Maria Robotnik, Rouge thought with a smile.

She clicked on the radio and immediately recognized the song that came on. It was 'silent night," a lush instrumental version. Turning onto a street, stores and offices rolling by on both sides, Rouge began to sing along.

Such a beautiful song, she thought.

Singing loudly, she tried to block out her thoughts about Knuckles, but couldn't. He was having a silent night right then. He was walking home in silence!

Thinking about it made her laugh again.

She was still chuckling when she reached the president's and pulled the white car into the executive parking lot.

The store had closed at six. Rouge entered through the security guard's door. The uniformed guard was seated at a low table with his feet up, concentrating on a basketball game on the radio. He raised his eyes and, recognizing her, gave her a nod and returned to his game.

Tough security around here, Rouge thought scornfully, hurrying through the narrow back corridor toward the main floor. As she stepped into the vast, empty one store, dark except for a row of dim night-lights against one wall, her old fear returned.

Just chill out! She scolded herself. You're supposed to be tough.

But she couldn't control the heaviness in her stomach, the tightening of her neck muscles, the constriction of her lungs.

It wasn't fear of the dark, she knew.

And it wasn't a fear of being by herself.

It wasn't a fear that could easily be pinned down.

Cold perspiration covered her forehead.

Her hands felt like ice.

Her brain began to spin crazy thought.

Everyone has phobias, she told herself, forcing herself to take a deep breaths to slow the heavy thudding of her heart. She made her way past the perfume and the cosmetics counters to the employees' elevator.

Everyone has irrational fears.

She stopped and leaned against a glass counter filled with costume jewelry. Wiping perspiration off her forehead with her glove, she let her eyes wander over the store.

Nothing moved.

Silence.

Silent night, she thought.

Why am I so afraid?

She forced herself to start moving again toward the elevator against the back wall. She knew she'd be fine once she was in the offices on the sixth floor, once she was with the president.

After all, it wasn't the first time she'd met him after closing.

Rouge gasped as something grabbed her from behind.


	3. opportunity calling

"Leave me alone! What do you want?" Rouge cried out and stumbled backward into a shelf of handbags. The man didn't move. He just stared, wide-eyed and still.

He couldn't move, Rouge realized. He wasn't a man. He was a mannequin.

She took a deep breath in and let it out. Her throat felt dry. She was still shaking.

"Rouge, you're an idiot," she said aloud, her voice sounding small in the enormous, empty store. She suddenly felt like laughing.

Of all the stupid fools. I backed into a mannequin and nearly scared myself to death!

Feeling a little better, but still scolding herself for being weak, she stepped through the open door of the employee's elevator. The door slid closed behind her, and she pressed the button for the sixth floor.

She felt nearly normal as she stepped onto the floor of the luxurious executive offices. The lights were all on, recessed into the dark fabric-covered walls lined with large modern paintings. Fresh flowers stood in tall vases on the plush maroon carpet. Rouge passed the reception area with its leather couches and chairs and followed the hallway toward the president's office in the corner.

To her left stood a wide balcony that looked down on all five floors of the store. As she passed it, Rouge peered over at the eerily silent store.

A bank of security monitors, an entire wall of TV screens, stood adjacent to Mr. President's office, and to Rouge's surprise, the monitors were on still, creating a low electrical hum that grew louder as she approached.

How odd, she thought. Those screens are usually turned off up here after closing.

She didn't have long to think about this. Suddenly the door to the president's office swung open, and a man in a blue uniform came busting out, colliding with Rouge.

"Oh!" she cried. She recognized the man at once. It was Chris thorndyke's dad, the store's head of security. "Mr. Thorndyke!"

He glared at Rouge angrily, his dark eyes wild, his face and hair bright red. "Excuse me," he said curtly and strode off without a glance back.

Still shaken, Rouge saw the president appear in the office doorway.

His face usually lit up when he saw Rouge. But now his expression was troubled. "Come in," he said, sighing wearily.

"Mr. President, what's going on?" Rouge asked, following him into the bright office. "Why did Mr. Thorndyke come bombing out like that?"

She sat down in a leather chair that faced the president's blond-wood desk.

"What a day."

"So what's Mr, Thorndyke's problem?" Rouge asked, speaking to the president's back. "He practically knocked me over."

"I just fired him," Mr. President said, not turning around.

"Huh?" The president's words took Rouge by surprise. Mr. Thorndyke had been head of security for as long as she could remember.

She knew his son Chris from Sonic's gang. He seemed like an okay kid.

"I had to let him go," Mr. President said, walking over and slumping into his leather desk chair. The chair made a soft woosh as he sank into it. Mr. President looked as if he deflated too, Rouge thought.

"This is just between you and me," the president said, leaning across the desk to speak confidentially to her, "but he was drinking on the job. With the holiday season coming up, I need someone who's going to give a hundred percent. I need someone I can rely on."

"He sure looked angry," Rouge said, remembering Thorndyke's bright red face as it had loomed over hers. "Yeah. Well… I was angry too," Mr. President said, tapping his fingers nervously on the desktop. "I guess had to fire him. I really had no choice."

"You ready to go home?" Rouge asked, losing interest in the subject.

"That wasn't the only thing that happened today," the president said, not hearing her question. "One of my Santa Clauses quit. Said his wife convinced him to move to a warmer climate. And I'm having all kinds of electrical problems. Christmas coming up in four weeks, and everything keeps shorting out."

"Why not use candles?" Rouge suggested. "The store would look beautiful by candlelight. People would love it."

"Yeah. Till it burned down," he said sarcastically. "You've always had a very practical mind, Rouge." She knew he was making fun of her, but she thanked him anyway. "only trying to cheer you up, pressy." He suddenly looked a lot older to her.

"I didn't even tell you about the troubles in my other stores."

"I can't wait," Rouge said, yawning loudly.

Mr. President laughed. "Very amusing. Okay, let's go home." He started to get up, but then sank back down in his chair. "Oh, wait. I almost forgot."

"Problems in another store?" Rouge asked.

"No. Stop being such a wise guy."

"I can't help it," Rouge cracked.

He ignored her remark. "Do you have any friends who want vacation jobs?" he asked. "I already told you you can have a job this vacation. But I need four or five stock clerks. They can work weekends and part-time till vacation. Then they can work full-time up to Christmas."

"Neat!" Rouge cried with real enthusiasm.

She thought immediately of shadow the hedgehog. I'll call Shadow as soon as I get home, she told herself, her mind whirring excitedly. He'll be so grateful that I have a job for him, he'll drop Maria without hesitating. "Thanks, pressy," she said and leaned across the desk to kiss his forehead. "That's way cool! I'll find some kids for you."

All the way home she thought about what she would say to Shadow, how she would offer him the job and let him know she was coming on to him. This should be an intresting holiday vacation, Rouge told herself. She wondered how Maria Robotnik would react when Rouge stole her boyfriend from her. Just thinking about it made Rouge smile all the way home.

What a hoot!

"Hi, Shadow?"

"Yeah. Hi. Who's this?"

"It's opportunity calling," Rouge said, twisting the phone cord between her fingers.

"Huh? Who?" Shadow had a deep voice. It really did match his good looks, Rouge thought.

"It's Rouge the bat," she said, keeping her voice low, trying to sound sultry.

"Rouge? Hi. How's it going?" He sounded very surprised to hear from her. She'd never called him before.

"It's going real well," she said, rolling her eyes. She was sitting on the chair beside her bed, her feet tucked under her. "I wondered what you were doing this Christmas. Are you going away or anything?"

It took him a while to reply. He must be trying to figure out why I'm calling, Rouge thought. She heard someone, a girl, ask him who was on the phone,

"No," he said finally, "I'm just hanging around, I guess."

"Well, the president needs workers at the store. You know, presidents in station square. I told him I'd ask some people if they wanted work. The pay is pretty good. It's part-time until vacation. Then it's full-time up to Christmas."

"Really?" he sighed.

"Think you might be interested?" Rouge asked, pleased by his voice.

"Yeah. Sure." He replied calmly. "That's great. Yeah."

"Good. I'm really glad, Shadow," Rouge purred.

"Maybe we can work together."

"You're going to work too?"

"Yes. I'd rather be on a beach or in a cave somewhere, of course. But the president always has to be around for the holidays. It's his most important time of the year. So I'm going to start working next Saturday morning. That's when you're supposed to start too – at eight-thirty."

She shifted the phone to her other ear, still coiling the wire between her fingers. "I'm looking forward to it, Shadow," she said sexily, hoping he'd catch her meaning. "I think we'll have some fun."

She could hear muffled whispering on the other end. Then Shadow came back on the line. "Uh – Rouge?"

"Yes?"

He seemed reluctant to ask his question, but he finally got it out. "Did you say you had lots of jobs open?"

"Well, I have a few," Rouge told him.

"Do you think Maria could work there too? You know Maria, right?"

Sure, I know the drippy little bleached blonde with that little-girl face who everyone thinks is just so cute, thought Rouge. Maria has about as much personality as a sponge mop.

"Sure," Rouge said. "I know her."

"Well, do you have a job for her too?" Shadow asked, sounding almost nervous. "I mean, you can say no if you want to. But I just thought -- "

No, Rouge thought.

"Yes," she said. "No problem, Shadow. I'm sure Maria can start on Saturday too."

Why not? Rouge told herself, unable to suppress a cunning smile. Having Maria there will make it even more interesting when I take shadow away from her.

"Hey, thanks," shadow said calmly. "Hold on a minute, Rouge. Maria is right here. I'll put her on."

What a thrill, Rouge thought sarcastically.

A few seconds later Maria's little-girl voice was in Rouge's ear. "Oh, thanks, Rouge. I mean, I'm so glad. Thanks."

"No problem," Rouge said. "The president needs the help, so I thought I'd --"

"Where do we go?" Maria interrupted excitedly. "I mean, what will we be doing? Selling or something?" Maria's questions gave Rouge an idea, a very mean idea. She decided to play a trick on her.

This is inspired. Inspired! She thought, laughing to herself.

"Well, Maria, wear you're very best clothes Saturday morning, okay?" Rouge told her, struggling to sound serious.

"My best clothes?" Maria sounded uncertain.

"Yeah. You know. Something really sophisticated. You've got to look right. You're going to be a salesperson at one of the perfume counters. Chanel, I think." "Really?" Maria couldn't hide her excitement. "That's great! Thanks, Rouge!"

They chatted for a few seconds more, then Rouge said she had other calls to make. Maria thanked her again, and they hung up.

Rouge jumped to her feet, laughing out loud, very pleased with herself. What a hoot! She thought. I can't wait to see Maria's face when she shows up for work in her best dress and finds out she's going to be loading shelves in the basement stockroom!

"What's so funny?" A voice startled her from her thoughts.

"Charmy!" She scolded her six-year-old friend. "Don't just come barging into my room like that."

"Why not?" he asked.

She laughed. "I don't know why not!" she said. She always found it impossible to be angry at Charmy. For one thing, with his little hat and light eyes and yellow and white skin, he looked adorable.

She also knew it had to be hard for someone his age to be growing up without a mother, just with a detective crocodile and a ninja chameleon, but it wasn't the same. She watched him bouncing on her bed, using it as a trampoline. She knew she should scold him and make him go back to his house, but she didn't feel like it.

"Hey -- not so high!" she cried.

"I'm flying!" he shouted happily.

Rouge started to think about whom else she wanted to call and offer a job. Most of the people she hung out with were going someplace warm for the holidays.

When the phone rang, Charmy let out a shriek, startling her. "Charmy -- that's enough," she said sharply. "Out. I have to answer the phone."

He bounced two more times, then leapt off the bed and disappeared out the door. Rouge picked up the phone.

"Hi, Rouge. It's Amy."

Oh, wow. It's Miss Pretty Puss, Rouge thought bitterly. Miss Sweet as Apple Pie.

Amy Rose was somewhat Rouge's friend. Rouge, in a honest moment, would have to admit that she was jealous of her friend.

With her straight pink hair, usually wearing a headband, and her flashing green eyes, Amy had a clean-cut, all good looks.

Why doesn't she wear lipstick or a little eye shadow? Rouge would wonder.

Why doesn't she do something with her hair?

But secretly -- and not so secretly -- Rouge envied her friend, envied the way people immediately liked her, envied her ease with people and all her friends. Of course she would never admit any of this to Amy. And most of the time when she thought about her friend, which was seldom, she thought of her scornfully. She was pathetic, after all, and wore the same red dress every time Rouge saw her, and acted so…. Ordinary.

"Hi, Amy. How've you been?"

"Okay. I have a cold -- but who doesn't?" Amy replied, sniffling.

I don't, Rouge thought gratefully.

"How is the president?" Amy asked.

"Pressy's fine," Rouge told her. "Kind if tired. You know. It's ShowTime at the store."

"That's what I wanted to ask you about," Amy said. "I was wondering, Rouge…" She hesitated. This was obviously difficult for Amy. "Uh -- are there any jobs available at the store? You know. For the holidays."

No way, Rouge thought, tapping her gloved fingers against the phone receiver. Who needs a pathetic, tacky friend about, making feel guilty?

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Rouge told Amy, making herself sound really upset. "I wish you'd called me last week, Amy. All the holiday jobs are taken."

I'm such a good liar, Rouge congratulated herself. I sound so broken up, even I would believe me.

"Oh," Amy replied quietly, obviously very disappointed. "I wish I had called sooner."

"What a shame," Rouge said, sighing sympathetically. "I really feel terrible, Amy." Then she brightened her tone. "Oh, well. Good to hear from you. We'll have to get together before Christmas. Say hi to the other."

Rouge replaced the receiver, a pleased smile on her face.

All in all, it had been quite a satisfying evening.

( next chapter coming and more exciting!)


End file.
